All He Had Left
by Little Miss Lovejoy
Summary: Agnes is on her deathbed, and Seymour feels like all he has left is Edna. But only one thing wrong with that-she's married to Flanders now.
1. Chapter 1

She was all he had, besides his job that is, but even that was not as thrilling as it used to be. The only other thing he had really ever lived for, he had lost, and he was reminded of that every day of his life, or at least every week day. Now the number one person in his life was slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew the woman on her death bed was partially the reason he had lost the love of his life. At least, she played a part in it, but he could never truly hate her. She was the reason he had changed his ways and became a decent man. She gave him shelter and became the mother he never had, and in return, he filled the void her own son had left. However, her mothering habits were for a young child, not a twenty year old man.

For years, Seymour thought nothing of it. He had never had an actual childhood so he just became a big child, at will. It was not until he got into his forties that he realized something was wrong. And by the time he found love, it was too late. Seymour and his mother were so set in their ways that they had no way of changing quickly enough.

Edna had left him at the altar and eventually married someone else. However, he could blame no one but himself. And he did. He hated himself for what he had become, but when he really thought about it, he came to the conclusion that he had never been any good.

Orphan-born turned street punk, the army could hardly tame him. If it had not been for his drill sergeant, he would have ended up getting himself killed one way or another.

But he only ended up taking a name that was not his own, and along with that, someone else's dream. Sure, he got his chance to start over, but at times like this, he could only think "Who am I, really?" Being a principal had not been _his _dream. The only dream that had been truly his was marrying Edna Krabappel, and that dream had been crushed.

Soon he would be left with nothing but memories. Sweet memories of his mother, bittersweet of Edna, and traumatizing ones of 'Nam.

"I was born with nothing, and in the end, I still have nothing. Well, at least I didn't lose anything . . . Oh, who am I kidding? I have lost everything!" He sobbed, his face buried in his hands.

"SEYMOUR! Stop blubbering," Agnes said.

Seymour smiled a little, looking down at his mother. "I'm sorry, Mother. I just . . . I don't know who I am."

"You're Seymour Skinner. I'm the sick one, and _I _know that!"

"Mother, I'm being serious. I'm freaking out."

"Seymour, you're going to be fine. You're a big boy! You don't need your old mother. You never did . . . It was I who needed you," she added softer.

His mother didn't quite understand what he meant, but her words comforted him enough. It was not often the woman showed her appreciation for her son, and any sign of it was nice for Seymour to hear.

"I did need you, though. I still do. I'd be nothing with you."

"You're right," Agnes agreed instantly. "But I think 20 years of mothering was enough. You're going to be fine." Though, realizing something, she became sad. "I never got to see you get married."

"I'm sure no one will, Mother."

"I'm sure, too." She paused before saying, "Bring Edna here."

"W-what?"

"You heard me. I need to talk to her."

"You never even liked—"

"Don't backtalk me!"

"Yes, Mother."

* * *

She had lived her life seeing dream after dream crushed so much to the point she could not remember _what_ her dream was anymore. The only thing she knew was that she had wanted a husband, and now that she had one, she often wondered why she wasn't completely satisfied.

Maybe she had too high of expectations for life, or maybe she had been unhappy for so long, she had forgotten how to be truly happy.

She felt everything she tried in life, she failed at. She had gotten married fairly young, only to end in a partial divorce—that is, being separated but doomed with her husband's last name.

She had took to drinking, getting fired from her first teaching job. Teaching had been her dream. She had obtained a master's degree and held a position at a private institution. She felt crushed and wondered what other blows would hit.

It had her down for a while, but eventually she had picked herself back up again and applied for a teaching job in the town she had grown up in—Springfield.

She wanted to start anew, but she also wanted someone new to love her. She couldn't stand being single for long because, naturally, she was getting older, and she didn't want to be lonely forever.

However, she had many relationship fails along the way. The one that hurt the most was the one that she was so sure of at first. It had been right under their noses for years. She and Principal Skinner found love at one of her student's birthday parties. They both shed some light into each other's dreary lives. However, he tried her patience too many times, and she felt that she had no choice but to leave him at the altar.

That was when her life seemed to become hopeless. She buried her feelings for Seymour and dated every man she could, desperate for love.

Just when she thought she had been with everyone, she landed—literally—into the arms of Ned Flanders.

And here she was today—married to him. The last man she had expected to be with, and he came with two goofy kids to match.

As much as she had come to detest her job at the school, she was starting to enjoy seeing her students. They were much more real to her than her step children.

She hated that what was once her dream, had progressively become a nightmare. The children at Springfield Elementary were nothing like the ones at the previous school she had taught at. They were not as bright, and they were lazy. However, there wasn't much to motivate them; the school was a dump. And out of all the little hell raisers, she was stuck teaching the worst of them all—Bart Simpson—"America's Bad Boy", as he liked to call himself. She found herself with him nearly every day after school. If only there was a more efficient punishment because chalkboard sentences did nothing.

Though she wouldn't admit it aloud if she could help it, she did think the boy could be sweet. But just when she thought he had a kind heart, he proved her wrong. She didn't know what to make of the boy, but she knew there was no escaping him. They now lived next door to each other.

"Mrs. K?"

"Hm?" Edna asked, not looking up from her magazine. "Are you done? You may go."

"Well, the thing is, the bullies took my skateboard today. Can you give me a lift home?"

The teacher sighed. "Well, it _is_ on the way." She put out her cigarette, a little reluctantly, knowing it would be her last for the day. Ned did not like her smoking in the house. He did not like her smoking at all, but she wasn't going to let him push her around. She would respect his house, but she wasn't going to change her habits completely for him.

"Mrs. K, can I ask you something?" Bart asked as they were heading down the road.

"No, I will not give you the answers to tomorrow's test."

Bart laughed lightly. "No, it's not that . . . Are you alright? I mean . . . are you happy?"

"Whatever do you mean?" the woman smiled.

"You can't hide, Edna. I've known you long enough to know when something's not right."

"Well, everything is perfectly fine, Bart."

"I don't mean to sound creepy, but sometimes I can see you through my window. You can't deny it now. I've seen you crying . . . What's bothering you?"

As much as Edna was freaked out that Bart was spying on her, she turned her head and saw the concern on Bart's face and was touched. "Well, I . . . I don't know." She honestly didn't.

"Do you think you miss Seymour?" Bart asked suddenly, causing Edna to freeze.

"I . . . Why would you say that?"

"I don't know. You two were just cool together. You both were so happy. Remember the time I found you both in the janitor's closet?" He cackled. "Whoa, things were getting hot in there!"

Edna's lips tightened, her heart racing and her insides turning. Memories she had forced out of her mind, feelings she had long since swallowed, were coming up to the surface. She did not speak until they reached the Simpsons' house. "Get out," she said acidly.

"What'd I do?" Bart asked innocently.

She spoke calmly. "Bart, you'll learn in life you shouldn't bring up people's pasts. Especially exes . . . How would you like it if I started prodding you about . . . Mary Spuckler?" Bart whimpered a little. "Exactly, now get out and go study for your history test."

"Y-yes ma'am," the boy scampered off.

Edna pulled up to the Flanders' driveway with a sigh. There was much more on her mind now, thanks to Bart, and she really did not know what to think at all. However, she forced a smile on her face and walked inside the house.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hurry along, Seymour."

"I can't leave you here, Mother."

"Damn it, Seymour. I'm on my death bed; the least you can do is obey me!"

"Yes, Mother," Seymour sighed. He did not understand why his mother needed to see Edna, but he would respect her wishes.

He drove calmly to the Flanders' house, but got nervous as he walked up to the door.

Rod answered. "Principal Skinner! I think you have the wrong house. The Simpsons are next door!" Rod could only assume he had meant to come speak of punishment for Bart.

The man chuckled. "No, I need to see Edna—Er, Mrs. Krabappel," he tried to sound professional. "Or is it Flanders?" he scratched his head, feeling himself start to sweat.

Rod tightened his lips a little, wondering why he needed to see his stepmother. He knew about their past, and it concerned him a bit. "I'll go get her. You stay here. Mom!" he said, wandering into the kitchen. "Principal Skinner wants to see you, and he looks awfully nervous."

"Oh, geez," Edna muttered. "Can't you tell him I'm not here?"

"Lies make baby Jesus cry!"

Edna chuckled a little. "You're right. Thank you." She made her way to the front door. "Yes?" she asked politely, hoping with all her being that this was a business call.

"Hello, Edna. I um . . . That is to say . . ."

"Do you want to come inside?" she raised an eye.

"No, I need you to come with _me_."

"Excuse me?"

Seymour sighed. "My mother asked to see you. I don't know why . . . She's . . . She's dying," his voice cracked a little.

It was only then that Edna noticed how much of a wreck Seymour looked. His hair was a mess, his tie was crooked, and he looked like he could cry at any moment. It all made sense now. This was why he had been so nervous. She nodded. "I'll come. Boys, will you be alright by yourselves for a bit?"

"Yes," the Flanders boys responded.

"Rod, you're in charge!" she called as she grabbed her purse, instantly lighting a cigarette once she was out the door. The atmosphere had become nerve wracking.

The car ride over to the Skinner's house was silent. Both were anxious for multiple reasons, and they could find no words to say.

Once they got inside, Seymour nodded to Edna, wanting her to go over to his mother's bedside.

"Hello, Mrs. Skinner," she said carefully with a smile. "You wanted to see me?

"Yes . . ." Agnes smiled to Edna. "How are you doing?"

"I was doing pretty well until I heard about this."

"Oh, don't worry about me, dear."

" . . . Why did you want to see me? I thought you didn't even like me."

"Well, of course it would seem that way. You're quite a little . . ."

"Mother!"

"_Character_," Agnes corrected herself upon Seymour's warning. "And you were trying to take away my son!"

"Mrs. Skinner, I was not trying to take away your son . . . He is a grown man and needed to . . ."

"I wasn't finished!" Agnes interrupted sharply, making Edna apologize instantly. The old woman coughed before continuing. "But you made my son happy, and that was enough for me. I would've had a hard time letting go, but I was ready to welcome you into our little family. You were pretty cute together, I suppose. It's a shame you didn't marry because now my son is lonely and sad . . ."

"Mrs. Skinner, I . . ."

Agnes held up a hand. "I know it's over. You're married to someone else's son. I hope you make them as happy as you made my Seymour. Though I don't know if that is possible . . . He was so happy . . ."

Edna was feeling quite uncomfortable. Was this why Agnes had wanted her here? To guilt trip her?

"Mrs. Skinner, I don't know what to say . . ."

"Say you'll take this." The old woman reached in her nightstand drawer and pulled out a beautiful antique necklace. "It's probably the most valuable piece of jewelry I own. Most of my possessions will go to Seymour, of course, with the exception of my so called '_real'_ son. He'll get a little, I guess. But I don't have any girls. You're the closest thing to a daughter to me. So please take it."

Edna carefully took the necklace, baffled. "I can't possibly . . ."

"Take the necklace!" Agnes barked.

"Yes, Mrs. Skinner."

"That's a good girl," Agnes smiled, satisfied.

"I'll guard it with my life," Edna said quietly, marveling at the antique.

"Good," Agnes said, closing her eyes.

"Mother!?" Seymour knocked Edna out of the way to kneel by her bedside.

"Seymour . . ." his mother whispered back, a peaceful expression freezing on her face as she drifted off into eternity.

Seymour felt his heart sink as the only person who truly loved him drifted out of his life in mere seconds. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to be alone?" Edna asked softly, kneeling beside him.

"No. Please stay," he turned, taking her hand and looking into her eyes with the most pitiful look on his face. When she nodded, he whispered, "Thank you. You're . . . You're all I've got in this world . . ."

Edna looked at the man sadly. She always knew the attachment Seymour had for his mother was unhealthy, but she really was all he had. Now the closest person in his life, wasn't really all that close to him anymore. It was really pitiful.

"I want to take a drive," he said suddenly. Getting away for a bit sounded like a good idea.

Despite the fact Edna thought Seymour shouldn't be driving, he insisted it would calm him.

The drive started out, once again, silent, and honestly, that was fine with Edna. She knew Seymour had a lot on his mind. She really felt sorry for the man. Seymour's life would be changing now, and she knew it would be hard on him, but what could she do about it? As much as she wanted to help, she felt she had no way to.

Seymour felt like he was losing his mind. He had lost everything else; why not his mind, too? He was frightened. What lay ahead of him except a life of loneliness? He had always been a bit afraid—a coward. Even as a street punk when faced with the choice of apologizing, jail, or the army, he chose what he_thought_ was the easy way out—the army—until he realized there was a war going on. From then on, he became more and more cowardly, hiding behind his mother, never doing much for himself, costing him the love of his life. On top of that, he had always been afraid of his mother, as well.

"Oh, why did you have to go?" he said aloud. "You're all I have! I have nothing going for me! This was terrible timing! My life was already in bad shape; I'm still not over Edna!" he sobbed, seeming to forget he was not alone in the car. He wasn't watching the road and was heading straight for an oncoming vehicle.

"Seymour! Watch out!" Edna reached over and grabbed the wheel, steering them to safety; however, nearly running them over a cliff. Luckily, Seymour had enough sense to brake.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It's okay, Seymour. I understand."

They sat in silence a few moments before Edna whispered, "You're still not over me?"

Seymour blushed. "How could I be?" He took her hand gently. "You are a magnificent woman. We had some really wonderful times together. You shed so much light into my life. I loved you very much . . . Still do," he added quieter. "And I was a damned fool to let things end up the way they did."

"Seymour . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Edna. I know you don't love me anymore. I probably don't even cross your mind. But you're all I have, and having you right here right now, means the world to me."

"Oh . . .Seymour . . .That's really sweet."

Seymour loosened his grip on her hand and ran his fingers through her hair. It was all making her heart beat quickly. All those feeling she had forced herself to forget long ago were coming back and confusing her. Seymour was confused, as well. He knew Edna was married, but having her so close to him made him feel so warm inside. His lips brushed against her cheek, bringing her back to reality.

"Seymour . . . No. This ring on my finger should be enough to tell you that we cannot be." She held up her left hand. She felt her throat closing up a bit. "I have to go," she choked out, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car, leaving Seymour alone.

_Well, Seymour, looks like you were TOO bold. You just can't win, can you? _Seymour thought to himself.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of lips fiercely moving against his own. Was this a dream? He curiously touched the figure's waist with his fingers as he kissed the lips back. It was definitely Edna, he smiled to himself, feeling a tear fall. But why had she come back? As his tie was being loosened, he became in no position to question or argue.

He was pulled into the backseat for more passionate kisses. Clothes were shed and intimate love was made.

Once it was over, Edna dressed and said nothing more than, "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Seymour," in a flat tone. She walked all the way home, completely in a daze—a confused daze, leaving Seymour lying cold and bare in the backseat of his car, confused as she—if not more.

He did not move from that spot—he slept as he was and drove straight to the school the next morning.

* * *

It was getting late, and Ned was getting worried. "Boys, where did Edna go? Did she say?" He had been pacing around the living room.

"Principal Skinner needed to see her for some reason," Rod replied, a bit irritated at the fact still.

"That's odd."

"Cigarette mommy used to date Principal Skinner, right, Daddy?" Todd asked.

"Yes, Todd, but please don't call her that . . . I'm sure she has a good reason for being out so long. Let's not jump to conclusions, boys."


	3. Chapter 3

Edna did not get home until after dark; the boys were already in bed. Ned was waiting for her in the living room. He could tell she looked like she had had a rough day.

"Where have you been, Edna?" he asked calmly, standing up and walking over to his wife.

"With Seymour. Oh, Ned, his mother had been sick, and she died right before our eyes. It's been a very stressful day."

"Oh, that's too bad. It's hard to lose someone you're so close to . . ." He looked down, silently mourning Maude. Everyone knew how close Skinner was to his mother. It was going to be hard on him.

Edna nodded and kissed Ned's cheek. Ned spoke again, gently. "I don't want to sound like a nag, but was it really your place to be there today, Edna?"

Edna pursed her lips, a bit offended. "Firstly, he asked me. No, his _mother_ did. She had wanted to speak with me. Secondly, I am all that poor man has left."

"But he doesn't _have_ you . . ."

"Ned, I am one of Seymour's employees, and he has a friend in me."

Ned smiled. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was just being . . ."

"Jealous?"

Ned gasped. "Was I? Oh no . . ." He frowned. "I'm going to have to pray extra hard tonight."

"Don't worry so much, Ned. I'm going to bed, okay?" It was only eight, but she really needed some rest.

"Alright, darlin'," Ned pecked the woman's cheek and held her close.

Edna touched her nose to his cheek and held there a few moments before sighing and heading to their bedroom.

Despite what Bart thought, "Ol' Flanders" had, too, been noticing Edna. He had not been aware of her crying, but he could tell something was wrong. Obviously now she had Agnes's death and the stress of the day toiling on her, but this had been going on for a while; he had noticed Edna did not seem exactly happy, and that killed him inside.

Ever since Maude had died, Ned had wanted someone to love him again, to keep him company. He never expected that person to take Maude's place because no one could ever replace her, not as his wife or his kids' mother.

As much as Edna differed from Maude, there was much more to her than the surface showed—how the town viewed her. Ned had taken the time to really get to know her and grew to really care for her. He wanted to help her, but he was scared to ask her what was wrong. He was worried about what the answer would be.

* * *

At Agnes's funeral, Seymour insisted he talk instead of the reverend, who pursed his lips and sat down.

"Most of you probably remember my mother as a cranky, old, hateful woman who appeared to hate her son . . . and that was a big part of who she was . . . but there was more."

He spoke for what seemed like hours. The story of Agnes's life as told by Seymour was interesting enough, but after telling that, he just started rambling about his experiences with his mother, ending up sobbing beside her coffin. While it helped him to talk about everything, it was boring everyone there.

"Alright . . . I'm going to assume no one else wants to speak," Reverend Lovejoy stood up, hoping his assumption was correct.

"I think her _son_ should get a chance to speak."

"He just did. Where were _you?_" The reverend rolled his eyes impatiently.

"I mean her _real_ son," Sergeant Skinner stood up.

Seymour got back up, wheeling around. "What would you have to say? You don't even know her. You're probably only here because you think you're getting inheritance. Well, sorry to say, I'm getting most of her possessions."

"I just came to give my respects to my mother," the sergeant replied calmly.

"Oh?"

"But why do you get everything? I'm her real son!"

"_I'm_ her real son. Just because she physically had you does not make you more her son than I. I have been her son longer, and she likes me. She doesn't like you. That should've been clear enough the last time you were in Springfield."

"This is highly irregular, Seymour. This is not the way you speak to your sergeant."

"We're not in the army anymore,_ Sergeant. _You have no place here."

"Well, he _is_ her son," Reverend Lovejoy pointed out.

"He's _not_ her son," Seymour said through clenched teeth.

"Okay," Tim replied and sighed, keeping silent.

"Tamzarian, you are not Agnes Skinner's legal son. You are an orphan."

"Armin Tamzarian is dead. I am and always will be Seymour Skinner."

"Name aside, I am her real son so I suggest you hand over my mother's possessions."

"Her will is clear."

"She was an old woman; she probably got mixed up."

"Don't talk about Mother that way!" Seymour lunged at the sergeant.

"Um . . . "Reverend Lovejoy stood as the two men start fist fighting. "I declare this funeral over."

People responded by awkwardly leaving the cemetery. Edna was a bit reluctant, watching the two men with wide eyes before Ned told her to come along as he was covering his boys' eyes.

* * *

Edna was preparing dinner for the family the next evening. Neither she or Seymour had said anything about or even acknowledged the other evening. Edna figured it was best to pretend it did not happen. It had meant nothing, after all, right?

"Mom, why are you making so much food?" Rod asked, noticing there was more food than usual.

"I'm going to take some over to Principal Skinner."

"Why?" Rod asked, his arms crossed.

Edna bent down to his level and smiled a little. "Because he lost his mother. He needs a little help right now. You understand that, don't you?"

Rod nodded silently, and his little brother clung to him with a frown. He took his hand and led him to the other room to comfort him.

Edna sighed a little and put aside extra food for Seymour in a container. As she was headed out the door, Ned was coming in from work.

He chuckled a little. "Where are you going?"

"I'm running some food to Seymour's. I'll be back soon."

"That's kind of you," Ned smiled. "Don't be too long!"

Edna did not think the trip would take long, but upon finding the shape Seymour was in, she realized she would be there a bit longer than anticipated.

Seymour was lying on his couch, with a black eye from the day before, a bottle in one hand, and a photo of his mother in the other.

His house was a mess—empty beer bottles lying around, dirty laundry strewn everywhere.

"My God, it's like I'm looking in a mirror of my past," she muttered to herself.

"Edna?" Seymour looked up.

She walked over and took the bottle away from him, setting it aside. "Seymour, look at you."

"I know," he sighed.

"I brought you some dinner."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Clearly I did . . ." She looked around. "Go take a shower, Seymour. I'll fix your food for you."

He smiled a little and nodded before pulling himself off the couch. While Seymour was showering, Edna helped herself to some cleaning—at least picking up some of the things strewn around carelessly.

As Seymour started to eat, he thanked her. "It's delicious. Much better than your TV dinners," he joked.

Edna rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry the house is such a mess." He held an ice pack she had fixed him to his eye.

"It's alright. I understand."

"I'm just such a wreck. I don't know what to do. I have nothing going for me."

"Seymour, you may have lost your mother, but you're still Seymour Skinner, principal of Springfield Elementary School, and you're darn good at it, too."

"You think so?"

"That school is a dump, but you manage to keep it running. That says something."

He smiled a little. She looked at the clock. "I have to go. I promised I'd be right back." Seeing his face fall, she found herself saying, "I'll be back tomorrow."

* * *

Ned was starting to get a little annoyed that Edna went to Seymour's every evening; she seemed to come home later and later, too.

"Edna," he touched her shoulder as she was leaving one evening. "I think what you're doing is very kind, and I'm proud of you, but don't you think you should stop soon?"

"Excuse me? Ned, his mother just _died_!"

"I realize that, darlin', but there's other women in this town that can help out. I bet Mrs. Lovejoy would be happy to help organize a system or something."

"No, that isn't necessary. I can do this on my own."

She turned and left before she could hear Ned reply quietly, "Yes but . . . I miss you."

* * *

"Seymour, how do you live in this filth?" Edna asked. She felt funny asking that because her own apartment often used to look the same way. When Seymour shrugged, Edna rolled her eyes and started cleaning.

She rushed around, throwing away bottles, picking up laundry and dishes. "Are you just going to lay there, Seymour?" she looked at the man, who was lying on the couch, watching a game. When he did not respond, she huffed and wheeled around to go back in the kitchen.

"Could you bring me a beer?" he asked.

"You're _joking_, right?!" Edna stormed back into the living room, a bit enraged, tripping and landing on the couch—more specifically, on top of Seymour.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly.

"No . . . I'm sorry," she whispered. The look on Seymour's face was genuinely apologetic. He looked pitiful again. The pity she felt for him combined with the feeling she felt being so close to him was getting to her again. She found herself touching her lips to his own in another forbidden kiss, her fingers running through his hair. When his hands slipped under her shirt, she froze. "No," she whispered and got up from the couch, walking away, her heart pounding like mad.

Seymour sighed. What was going on? He knew he should not be wanting her like this, but she was not helping. The next thing he knew, her body was pressed close to his, and she was whispering the exact opposite of what she had just said into his ear. "Yes . . ."

"Yes?"

Edna merely nodded in response as she started loosening the principal's tie, and off they went again to the garden of earthly delights.

At some point during their love making, Edna had gotten annoyed with her wedding ring and shed herself of it, setting it aside.

Once again, after they were finished, not a word was said. Edna merely got dressed and continued on with her cleaning. She peeked in Seymour's bedroom and called back, "Do you ever clean your room!?" It looked worse than the rest of the house.

"If I am promised a treat!" he called back.

Edna could not tell if he was joking or not, but she feared he was not. "Get in there and clean your room right now!" He needed to do something himself and maybe yelling like Agnes would do the trick.

"That works, too," Seymour muttered, jumping up. "Yes, Mother!" he said by habit.

"I'm not your mother."

"Sorry. Yes, dear."

"I'm not your 'dear', either!"

"Then what _are_ you?" he raised an eye.

Edna blushed. As Seymour went to his bedroom, she turned and peered at her reflection in the mirror, seeing her disheveled hair and crooked top. "Yes, what _am_ I?" she whispered to herself. Shaking her head to clear it, she grabbed her purse and left without a word. Her wedding ring lay forgotten on the coffee table.


	4. Chapter 4

"Bart, why are you spying on the Flanderses?" Lisa walked up to her brother, who was in his bedroom, his telescope pointed towards their neighbors' house. "That's creepy!"

"I'm checking on Mrs. K."

"That's even creepier!"

Bart sighed and turned to face his sister. "She's been through a lot, okay? I'm worried about her."

"My teacher has been through a lot, too, but you don't see me spying on her!"

"_Your_ teacher doesn't live next door."

"That doesn't give you a right to spy! Mrs. Krabappel is happily married now. She's fine!"

"That's where you're wrong, Lis. I've seen the old girl crying. Something is wrong." He wheeled back around and peered again through his telescope. "Huh? What's this?" He zoomed in, getting a closer look, noticing Edna's left hand was bare. "Aye caramba! Where's her wedding ring?!"

"Oh my gosh!" Lisa gasped.

He saw Edna realize it was missing, and she started to panic.

"If Flanders sees her without her ring, he'll freak out!"

"Where could it be?" Lisa wondered aloud.

Bart had been in deep thought. "I have a hunch. I'm going to Skinner's."

"Why would it be at Principal Skinner's?" Lisa raised her eyes.

"I'm not sure. I just have a hunch he has something to do with it. He's been happier the last few days, and why would that be? His mother just died." He had been rummaging in his closet and turned around, wearing all black, complete with a mask.

"What's with the get up?" Lisa scratched her head.

"Dramatic effect," Bart shrugged. He climbed out his window with his skateboard and made his way to the Skinner house.

He let himself in the unlocked front door and began snooping. He noted how clean the place looked, and he thought there was no way Skinner had been keeping his house so clean. Didn't his mother do everything for him? At the least, she made him do it for her, but she wasn't around anymore.

_Ah ha! _Bart spotted the ring on Seymour's coffee table.

"Just what is the meaning of this?!"

Bart turned to see Skinner already in his pajamas. "Hey, Skin-rash."

"Bart Simpson, just what do you think you are doing?"

"Saving your hide," he replied, holding up Edna's ring.

"She left that here?" Seymour asked quietly.

"So I was right. She _was_ here. Look, buddy, I don't know what's going on, but this here ring belongs on someone's finger, and I know a certain someone who could rip you apart before you can say 'diddly.'"

"Ned Flanders?"

"Good job, Sherlock. You may think Ned would not be capable of such a feat, but I wouldn't underestimate him. He got mad enough when Homer looked down Maude's dress. He got even madder when his parents took a liking to my dad; he punched him. You heard me, Seymour. Punched him. I think you know what the possibilities are here."

"Then don't tell him. Lie. I know you can lie."

"What's in it for me?" Bart turned around and smiled smugly.

"Anything," Seymour sighed, defeated. He sat on the couch with his head in his hands. "It would hurt Edna, too. I can't have that."

"Hm . . . Get rid of this month's detention for me."

Seymour looked up. "That's all?"

"And I want two helpings of dessert for a month."

Seymour grumbled. "Fine; done."

Bart grinned. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir!"

He pulled off his outer layer of clothes and rode as fast as he could to the Flanderses. If he was lucky, maybe he could dodge Ned altogether. However, when he arrived, he found Ned already there. He ran to the window and peered inside to see Ned looking disappointed and Edna apologetic.

"I don't know what could have happened," she was saying. "I must have taken it off to wash my hands and left it on the sink!"

"This is awfully forgetful of you, Edna. Not only did that ring cost me a pretty penny, it's an important symbol of our marriage!"

_Yikes!_ Bart thought, figuring now was the time to interrupt. He rang the doorbell. Ned answered. "What can I diddly do for you, Bart?"

"It's not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you." He held out his palm with Edna's ring.

"Wh-what? How?"

"Uh . . ." _Think fast, Bart! _"Some girl found it in the bathroom and gave it to me to give to Edna."

"How did they know it was her ring?" Ned raised his eyes.

"She's the only married woman on campus," Bart shrugged.

"And why did you wait until now to give it to her?"

"Uh, I had a dentist appointment!"

Ned nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Bart."

Edna peered from behind Ned, mouthing her gratitude to Bart. He smiled to her and then scampered back home.

Edna was not sure how Bart had been able to retrieve her ring or even how he knew it had been missing, unless of course he had been spying on her again. The thought made her shudder. But she needed to repay him, nonetheless.

* * *

The next day after class, she stopped him. "Oh, Bart!"

"Yes?" He stopped walking and turned to her.

"I don't know how you did it, but thank you." She held up her left hand. "You saved me. I want to repay you."

"Oh? How 'bout giving me an A on my math test?"

Edna flipped through the test papers, found Bart's, and instantly wrote a 100 on it. "Done!"

Once Bart had left, Edna lit up a cigarette and leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"Hello, Edna." Principal Skinner walked in.

"Hello, Seymour."

"I, uh, see you got your ring back!" Edna merely nodded, waving her left hand. There was a silence in which Seymour stood admiring Edna as she had her smoke. "You know, I think you've only gotten more beautiful since we were together . . . "He walked over closer and spoke low into her ear, "How about we go into the janitor's closet for old time's sake?"

Edna felt chills go through her, and she shut her eyes tight. "No."

"Alright, we can wait until you bring my dinner over."

"No," she repeated, standing up.

"You're . . . not coming over?"

"Look, Seymour, whatever happened between us never happened."

"What will I do about dinner?" Seymour blinked.

"You are a grown man," she said, getting slightly irritated. "There are decent, cheap, microwave dinners at the grocery store. I lived off of them for years; now you can do the same. Unlike you, I have a family to tend to, and I can't keep coming over and playing 'mommy.' I have my own kids."

"I think you were doing more than playing 'mommy'," he said, making light of the situation.

Edna held up a hand and said nothing more as she packed up to leave.

"Mom, we're ready to leave," Rod said, coming in her classroom with his brother. He stared at Principal Skinner with his arms crossed.

"Alright, boys," Edna put out her cigarette. "I'm ready, too."

As she walked away with her stepchildren, she felt a tight feeling in her chest. She knew she had done the right thing. She could not keep being unfaithful to Ned. But it still hurt her. It was like she was reliving their wedding day all over again. She had not ever wanted to leave, but she knew she had to.

Seymour watched her leave with a sigh. _You've lost her again. You weren't even supposed to have her this time, but you did for that short while._

"Damn you, woman. Why must you torment me so? With your tauntingly beautiful body, your infectious laugh, your 'I love you,' 'I love you not's. Well, mark my words—Seymour Skinner has had it!" He threw down what he thought was his hat, only to realize he did not wear a hat. He felt the top of his balding head, embarrassed.

"Ha ha! You're bald!" Nelson Muntz pointed from the hallway.

"Detention, young man!" Seymour picked up his toupee and fit it back on his head. He sat down in a student's desk and put his head in his hands. _I really am a loser. How do I do this on my own? Why couldn't Mother have outlived me? I would do anything to take her place right now._

* * *

That night at the Flanderses, Ned was tossing and turning, unable to sleep. His tossing was keeping Edna awake. "Ned, what's wrong?"

Ned sat up with a sigh. "I can't sleep because something is wrong with our marriage," he replied, bluntly.

"What do you mean?"

"Something's been troubling you for months, whatever it may be, and the next thing I know, your wedding ring just _mysteriously_ disappears!"

Edna frowned. "Bart told you what happened, and you believed him."

"Well, I lied."

"Lies make baby Jesus cry, Ned," she reminded him gently.

"I don't care about baby Jesus!" Ned said without thinking. His eyes widened, and he looked up, apologizing. "I didn't mean that!" He then turned back to Edna. "We're going to work everything out, though. I scheduled us a marriage counseling appointment."

"You _whatI?!"_ Edna's eyes widened. "You didn't consult with me first!"

"Well I knew you wouldn't take it lightly . . ."

"Ned, I don't like marriage counselors," she said firmly.

Ned's expression softened. "I know, darlin', but . . ." he chuckled a little. "I'm not going to run off with the counselor. It's just Reverend Lovejoy!"

"Of course it is," Edna muttered.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind, dear. Goodnight," she turned on her side and shut her eyes, and Ned wondered whether this had been a good idea or not.


	5. Chapter 5

The next afternoon, Ned closed his store early and went to pick up Edna for their appointment. The boys had choir practice so they did not have to worry about getting a baby sitter.

He found her in her classroom, sitting on the edge of her desk, smoking a cigarette. He was appalled she was smoking in the school but disregarded that.

"Edna, why don't you put out your death stick. We've got to get to our appointment!"

"I'm not going," she said, breathing out, the smoke causing Ned to cough.

"Come on, honey," Ned gently took her cigarette from her and put it out.

Edna responded by lighting up another cigarette and facing the window. She just didn't feel she could do this. She had had enough on her mind lately as it was. She didn't need this. It brought back too many painful memories.

"Edna," Ned said a little sternly. "Put out that cigarette and come on. Don't make me carry you out of this building."

Edna narrowed her eyes and turned around. "You wouldn't dare."

"I have the strength. Don't test me."

Edna rolled her eyes and put out the cigarette, sliding off her desk and walking ahead of Ned. Ned smiled a little, satisfied, but then sighed a little, wearily.

* * *

"I'm guessing wanting to come here was not mutual," Reverend Lovejoy said. The way Edna sat with her arms crossed, facing away from Ned made that clear.

"You got that right," Edna muttered.

"Well, Edna, why do you think Ned called me?"

"Why does he _ever_ call you?"

" . . . Good question," he muttered, making Ned raise his eyes. "Why do you think he scheduled this appointment?"

"He told me I've seemed like something was bothering me, but instead of talking it out, he brings us here."

Tim nodded. "Well, we can talk through it here. Ned, can you think of anything you've done to upset Edna?"

"No . . . I haven't done much of anything lately. We've been both so busy with work and the boys . . ."

"Maybe Edna feels neglected," Tim suggested.

Ned frowned. "Is this true, Edna?"

Edna's expression softened, and she finally turned to Ned. " . . . Maybe a little. I'm not sure. I've been feeling so strange. I've had a lot on my mind."

"You can tell us about it. You won't be judged here," Tim said with an encouraging smile.

Edna took a deep breath. She knew she needed to let her feelings out if they were going to get anywhere. "Well . . . I've just felt like I'm not fully satisfied with my life, and I don't know why. All my life I've just wanted a husband and a family. Now I have it. I should be perfectly happy, and I _am_ happy . . . I just . . ." she sighed, getting confused again.

"It's true that you have a family, but being a woman, maybe you want a child of your own?"

"Well, of course I do," Edna said as if it was obvious.

"You never told me this," Ned said.

"I didn't want to be a bother. You already have two boys . . . "

"I always want to know what you're feeling."

"So you have felt neglected, and you want a baby. Is that all?" Tim asked.

"I don't know. I've just been unhappy for so long; maybe I'm incapable of being truly happy."

"Nonsense!"

"Wait just a ding dong diddly minute," Ned interrupted. "How does this explain your wedding ring disappearing?" This was just bothering Ned so badly, he couldn't help bring it up again.

Hearing that hit Edna hard, being smacked in the face with her antics as of late, and she started sobbing.

"Um . . . How about you go let Mrs. Lovejoy comfort you while I talk to your husband? I believe she's here somewhere." Tim opened his office door, only for Helen to fall on her face, having had been eavesdropping. "Oh, _this_ again?" he muttered. His wife grinned sheepishly and waved from the ground. "Found her," he told Edna.

She and Helen walked out of the room, and Tim sat back behind his desk. He asked Ned to elaborate on the disappearing ring. Ned began to tell the reverend what had been going on lately.

"Ned . . ." Tim said slowly. "I really hate to tell you this, but I think your wife is being unfaithful."

"What?!" Ned gasped, then sighed. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't suspected it." He put his head in his hands.

* * *

Edna was sitting on the front pew of the church, wiping her tears in silence. Helen sat on her knees beside Edna and said, "I was right, wasn't I? You've been cheating on your husband!"

"Helen, not now . . . "

Helen smirked a little. "That's all the answer I need."

"You're a lousy comforter," Edna crossed her arms.

"How am I supposed to comfort an unfaithful wife?"

"If you knew my whole story, you'd be more sympathetic."

"Well, there's only so much you can hear through a door," Helen chuckled. Edna clenched her fist and frowned. Helen continued. "You know, it was only a matter of time before you cheated. I'm surprised you held out this long!"

Edna clenched her teeth and refrained from socking Mrs. Lovejoy right in the nose. "I'm walking home," she said flatly.

* * *

Ned had decided to be as calm as he could about this. After all, he had heard Edna spill her feelings. He knew what had probably led to such behavior, and he felt it was probably partly his own fault.

When he and Tim walked out of his office, Ned asked where Edna was. When Mrs. Lovejoy answered him, Tim frowned. "Helen, what did you do?" When his wife shrugged innocently, he rolled his eyes. He turned to Ned. "I wish you luck."

"Thanks, rev. I'll give you a call if I run into another pickle."

"I'm sure you will."

* * *

Ned confronted Edna about the problem that night, and she assured him that she had ended it with Seymour. It didn't mean her feelings for him were gone, but she couldn't help those. She had pushed them down before; she could do it again.

She had worked so hard to get what she had now; she couldn't give it up now. She needed to stay where it was safe. She had everything she needed here.

Ned was going to give her another chance, of course. He loved Edna and trusted her. He wanted to do his best to make and keep her happy.

"From now on, Saturdays are _your_ day. You get to pick how we spend it! As long as it's appropriate," he chuckled.

Edna smiled. Maybe more time together would solve this.

"And if you really want to have a child . . ." Ned took a deep breath. "I'd love to have one with you."

Edna's eyes lit up. She had been wanting to have one for years now. Now that she was settled, she could finally have one. "Do you really mean it?"

Ned nodded. "I think a little one would be nice . . . "

Edna smiled and kissed Ned fully on the lips. He pulled away, chuckling. "Better lock the door first. Wouldn't want the boys walking in on us!"

Edna smirked and sat back, pulling her gown skirt up a little, seductively waiting for Ned.

"Oh," Ned said softly, seeing Edna. "You beautiful temptress . . ." he sat beside her, kissing her lips.

* * *

Weeks went by, and things started to go back to how they were before. Edna had swallowed all of her feelings for Seymour, pushing them far down. She only looked at his surface, allowing herself to be less than kind to him on occasions and almost always sarcastic.

Seymour, however, had no one to take his mind off things. His mother used to keep his mind off Edna; now she was gone. Edna had helped him with his mother's death; now Edna was gone. It was just Seymour left—all alone, with merely his job.

_Maybe if I go back to the beginning, I can sort out my life. Maybe I could go back to the orphanage . . ._ Seymour looked at his gas gauge._Nope, not enough gas to get to Capitol City . . . I know . . ._ He decided to get his motorcycle out of storage again. Nobody would stop him this time. There was no one left who cared about him. He packed a few belongings for his trip, including the pocket watch with his mother and Edna's pictures in it. He was almost reluctant to take it, but he could at least pretend he was loved.

* * *

The next day after school, he left a note saying he was leaving on his desk and nothing else. He slipped on his old leather jacket and rode off on his motorcycle. He suddenly felt the need for speed. He figured if he died on the way to Capitol City, it would be no one's loss—might as well enjoy the ride.

Armin Tamzarian was starting to have a nice ring to it—maybe he would get his name legally changed back. He didn't know what lie ahead of him, but he knew it had to be better than staying in Springfield and suffering.

* * *

Around six o'clock, the Flanderses got a phone call. Edna answered.

"Hello?"

"Edna! Turn on the news. Now!"

Bart's voice sounded panicky so Edna thought it must be serious. She tried to put on the news but found the channel blocked. "Really, Ned?" she muttered. "Our channel is blocked! What is it?"

"Motorcycle accident! 20 miles out of town!" Bart said between breaths. "I think it's Seymour!"

"What?! How can you be sure?" Edna's heart was racing quickly.

"It's his old jacket! And that's his face! . . . They're taking him to Shelbyville Hospital!"

That was all Edna needed to know. She hung up and ran for her purse.

"What's the rush?" Ned chuckled.

"Seymour's been in an accident! I have to get to Shelbyville Hospital!"

Ned sighed. "Edna, is it necessary? There are trained doctors there. You can't do anything."

"He has _no one._ Where is your 'good Samaritan' nature you're always boasting about?"

Ned nodded. "You're right. We'll all go, though." He pushed up his glasses. "Rod, Todd! We're taking a trip!"

"Yay!"

"To see your principal."

"Oh," they groaned a little.

Once they got to the hospital, they were told to sit in the waiting room; they weren't allowed in yet. Edna paced the floor nervously for hours.

"Edna, calm down, darlin'," Ned said gently.

"I can't!" She snapped, going outside for a cigarette.

"Mom's going to smoke one of her death sticks, isn't she?" Todd asked.

"Yes, son. She's in a tizzy right now."

"Why does she think she needs to be here for Principal Skinner? Doesn't he have friends? There are other teachers," Rod said, annoyed.

"Son, it's complicated."

"I'll say."

Once they were allowed to go in Seymour's room, Edna nearly knocked some people over as she barreled through. Ned and his boys followed behind.

She walked slowly to the man's bedside. "Seymour?" she said softly.

"Edna?" he looked up, surprised.

"Thank God, you're alive!" She hugged him best she could. He had two casts and a neck brace.

"Barely," he smiled. He meant that in more ways than one, and Edna seemed to understand. She took his free hand and squeezed it gently. "How did you know I was here?"

"The news. I came as quickly as I could. You had me worried sick! What on earth were you doing, Seymour?"

"Going home," he sighed.

"Your home is here . . .Well, not _here _here but in Springfield!"

"I don't have anything for me there. It's too painful."

Edna noticed his pocket watch on the table beside his bed. She opened it, seeing the old photos, smiling a little, feeling tears start to fall.

Ned steered his boys with him back to the waiting room. He could see the way she looked at Seymour—that concern—it was more than concern, more than worry. It was love.

Edna was well familiar with pain. She'd felt it all of her life, and her marriage with Ned was no exception. It might have relieved some of it, feeling she could found her safe haven, but it wasn't perfect. Ned was always so happy and upbeat, which was great, but she could never be that happy; she didn't feel she had the ability. She loved Ned, but lately she was realizing she still loved Seymour, too. You could only bury feelings for so long before they come back up again.

But she understood Seymour's pain. She remembered when they had once relieved some of each other's pain. Then she sent him into pain again because of her own needs. She did not regret that entirely though because she knew it had been better for her at the time. But she did pity him. He'd only gotten himself into more emotional pain and now physical pain, as well.

He'd been through a lot so maybe he had grown up some. Didn't he deserve a chance?

_Edna, you are married. . . she scolded herself. But don't you deserve to be truly happy? Another shot at happiness or stay in your safe place? Either way, you are going to hurt someone, and you may never be happy either way._

"You have me," she finally responded, quietly.

"No, I don't." When her lips touched his, he resisted, refusing to kiss her back. "No. Stop this, Edna. You've hurt me enough."

"You're right." She got up and left his room. _It's time to hurt someone else now._

"Edna, darlin'," Ned started to say. "I . . . I saw the way you look at him. I don't know if you've ever looked at me that way."

Edna silently placed her ring in his palm, making his eyes widen.

"I hadn't realized what I had been doing to myself until just recently. You can only suppress feelings for so long. I have to do this for myself. I may regret my decision, but that's something I've grown quite used to." She kissed Ned's cheek. "Goodbye, Ned."

She walked slowly back to Seymour's room, not even shedding a tear. She had no idea if this was the right decision, but she knew Seymour needed her right now, and she couldn't keep doing this to Ned.

Maybe she and Seymour would end up together, maybe not. Maybe she would end up truly happy, but her best guess was that she wouldn't. Her life was full of regret and pain. Now she had hurt yet enough person, while giving another hope, when she knew there was a possibility of hurting him again in the end.

She would just live for the moment, day by day. Tomorrow she may wake up completely regretting her choice or maybe she would feel relief. Months down the road, she may be Mrs. Edna Krabappel-Skinner, or maybe she would be on her knees begging forgiveness from Ned. Only time could tell. She only hoped God would allow things to go right for her—just this once.

* * *

Epilogue—

"Finally—I can smoke when I want, dress the way I want . . . "Edna twirled around, landing in Seymour's arms, feeling free—like a weight was lifted, a weight she had not even known was there, really. Everything seemed to make sense now, for the moment.

The man chuckled. "As long as your outlandish outfits are for my eyes only."

"Ha! You think I dress for you? I dress for myself."

"But it draws other males' attention."

She shrugged. "They can look, but they can't touch!"

Seymour laughed lightly. "So, what's for dinner?"

"I beg your pardon? Not this again!"

"But Edna, I truly don't know how to cook."

"You can learn!"

"But you cooked for Flanders . . ."

She sighed. "Good point. But you better help around the house in other ways, and you better take me on dates!"

"Slow down, Edna. You think I didn't learn my lesson the first time? I'm going to do my very best to keep you this time."

Edna smiled. "And I'm going to do my very best to stay."

They kissed for a few moments before Edna playfully pushed Seymour over onto his bed and crawled over to him. "Let's do it," she grinned. "Nobody can walk in on us now. We're all alone in this house."

"Indeed we are," Seymour whispered, kissing her again as his hand slid up her skirt.

"Hey, Principal Weiner, hey Mrs. K!"

The couple yelled, startled, and looked at the door to see Bart Simpson.

"Sorry to interrupt," the boy laughed.

"Young man, you knock before entering!" Seymour scolded.

"The door was wide open!" he responded innocently.

"I mean the _front_ door."

"Oh."

"Bart, what do you want?" Edna sighed, sitting up.

"Just wanted to check on you and make sure you're happy now."

"You don't think I'm terrible for leaving Ned?"

"Hey, you do what works best for you. I don't care who you're with as long as it makes you happy. Flanders will get over it. He's a tough guy. You—you're fragile, and you deserve to do what makes you happiest."

"Bart, you're sweet," Edna held out her arms for a hug.

"Ew," Bart shook his head, stepping back.

Edna chuckled. "Thanks for stopping by, Bart, but next time, please knock."

"Yes, ma'am!" Bart saluted and started to walk out the door, but ran back and hugged his teacher, surprising her. "But you _are _happy, right?" he asked quietly.

"Currently, yes," she hugged the boy back and patted his head.

"Alright. See ya, teach'. See ya, Skin-rash." He smiled and ran out of the room, holding out his arms as he ran, knocking over books on a bookcase. After all, he couldn't come just to be nice; he had to leave his mark.

"Where were we?" Edna smiled.

"I believe I know," Seymour said, laying Edna back, a hand running slowly up to her thigh, causing her to giggle.

"Oh, _Seymour_." She pulled him close for more kisses.

* * *

"I called it!"

"Now, Rod, that's not very nice."

"Sorry . . . I miss our real mommy," the boy pouted.

"I miss her, too, son."

"She was the best mommy ever!" Todd added.

"Indeedly doodly, she was, Todd," Ned smiled sadly.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Rod?"

"Please don't bring us anymore mommies."

Ned pulled his boys close and kissed the top of their heads, not saying a word.

That night, Ned could not sleep. Once again, there was an empty space beside him, but this time had had the discomfort of knowing she was filling a space in someone else's bed. He did what he knew best to do—call Reverend Lovejoy.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Reverend Lovejoy?"

The voice then became annoyed. "No, this is _Mrs. _Lovejoy. It is one in the morning, Ned. What do you want?"

"Well . . . my wife left me," his voice was quiet.

Helen said nothing more to Ned, but shoved her husband to wake him. "Ned Flanders."

Tim groaned and took the phone. "Hello, Ned."

"Rev . . . I've run into another pickle."

"Of course you have. What is it this time?"

"Edna left me."

Tim became silent, instantly feeling bad for Ned, which was unusual for him.

"She just gave me her ring back and went to Principal Skinner! I don't know what to do. We're not divorced, but we're not together. I . . . I'm losing it, rev!"

"Well, Ned . . . It's best you to give you both some time. Anything could happen. Just try to occupy yourself."

"How?!"

"How did you cope when Maude died?"

"I just about went crazy!"

"Hm . . . Well, Ned, try to get some sleep for now. Take a sleeping pill. Have you ever tried alcohol? That does the trick sometimes."

Ned gasped. "Reverend, that's terrible advice! I'm not just going to _drink_ my days away!"

"Then read your bible or something," Tim said, getting annoyed. He hung up.

Ned sighed. _Steady, Neddy. You're going to be alright. If Edna had feelings for another man, it would be wrong of you to keep her here._

He then did the second best thing he knew how to do—he prayed. He prayed that things would get easier for him and his boys—that they would find happiness in each other. He prayed that Edna had made the right choice, and that she would be happy, too. He also sent his wishes to Maude, as he always did in prayer.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, feeling better after prayer. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but the grey skies had to clear up sometime.


End file.
